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The appointment

Dr Alfred Richter, a
millionnaire, is responsible for the death of fifty workers in the
explosion of one of his armament factories.

One hot july afernoon as he sat
working at his desk he sensed that he was not alone. He as gripped by
sudden apprehension. Someone was standing in front of him and he had no
desire to know who it was.

«Good afternoon, Dr Richter. »

The chilling voice was deep ans sonorous. The millionnaire froze at the sound of it, and continued to stare at his desktop.

« I don't know who you are and I have no wwish to find out. Go away. »

« Come, come, Doctor, that's not a very polite way to treat someone who has travelled far to give you a message. »

Full of dreadful foreboding,
Richter slowly raised his head and stared with amazement at the man who
stood smiling before him. There could be not doubt that he was an
undertaker, for he was dressed entirely in black and wore a tall top

« How did you get into my house ? » he asked, rising unsteadily to his feet.
« Who are you ? »

The undertaker smiled hideously.
« A messenger ».

« From whom ? »

« Isn't it obvious to a man of your intellect ? »

« Your ludicrous costume reminds me of an undertaker. »

« Merely a symbol of my work. I've long ceased to be concerned with burial. My work is simply to deliver the message. »

He raised his top hat and bowed gracefully. Richter's terror became rage and he slammed his fist upon the desk.

« Damn you, man. » the shout emerged as a strangled squeak.
« What message ? »

« Oh,
yes, the message. » The vile-looking man smiled, glanced heavenward and
put the top hat reverently to his chest.
« Dr Alfred Richter, I am here
to inform you that your name has been called and that on the nineteenth
day, one month hence, you will have an appointment with death. »

« Another threat! » Richter
screamed hysterically. « Another damn threat from the victims of that
explosion. So that's why they sent you, dressed in those vulgar clothes
and looking like death. You're part of the vile campaign of terror! » He
grabbed a small bell and rang it furiously.

« You are wasting your time,
Doctor. I have nothing to do wwith the people you burnt and maimed. I am
merely here to inform you of the inevitable fact of your death and
final judgement. Remember, one month hence. Prepare well, you have much
to answer for. »

Richter turned is head as the butler entered the room.
« Call the police, I want this fiend arrested. »

The butler gazed at the millionnaire is astonishment. « Fiend, sir ? »

Richter turned and looked at the empty space before him...

Merci d'avance




Le Dr Richter est responsable de 50 morts lors de l'explosion d'une usine d'armements. Il est en train de travailler dans son bureau par une chaude journée d'été. Soudain une personne se présente face à lui et le salue. Le Docteur Richter essaie de le chasser, mais l'homme habillé comme un entrepreneur des pompes funèbres insiste pour délivrer son message. Solennellement, et le chapeau sur le coeur l'homme annonce à Richter la date de son RV avec la mort. Richter dit qu'il comprend que cet homme est envoyé par les victimes de l'explosion, mais l'homme nie et dit qu'il vient seulement lui donner RV pour le Jugement Dernier afin qu'il prépare sa défense. Richter terrifié et furieux sonne son Majordome pour qu'il chasse le visiteur, mais il n'y a personne d'autre que Richter dans le bureau